Wolf Wood (Part Two): The Dangerous years

by Mike Dixon

  Edward's armour had been made for his birthday. He was growing fast and it would soon be too small for him. That didn't matter. It would be handed on to his brother, Edmund, who was a year younger.

  Edward said it was important to wear proper armour. It was very heavy and you had to get used to it. You didn't just wear it on a horse. A lot of fighting was done on foot and you didn't have a horse to support you then. Horses had their limitations. They could get shot away from under you. You used them to break up enemy formations and pursue the enemy when they broke ranks.

  The jousting ended and the boys trooped up to the stand. Edward's brother, Edmund, was his second in command. Maud's brother, Simon, was captain of the guard. He was the same age as Edmund and they were close friends. The other boys were the son's of soldiers.

  They would be fighting against a battalion led by a grandson of the Earl of Salisbury. He was a Beaufort and they used to support the House of Lancaster. Now, some of the Beauforts had changed sides. That was why it was so important not to offend them. No one wanted them to change back again.

  The girls in the stand held out their favours. These were silk scarves with things embroidered on them. Edward's mother had supplied Maud's. It was green and had a yellow flower in a corner. There was a lot of giggling when they were handed out. There was more to giving favours than giving a scarf. It was one of those things you were expected to know more about when you got older.

  Edward received her favour and got others. One was from the sister of the boy he was going to fight. Her name was Katherine de Salisbury and she was very snooty. He tied her favour to his sword harness so that it hung over his heart. His mother had told him to do that and the snooty girl looked pleased. He tied Maud's favour round his sword arm. She liked that. It said she was his friend-in-need and he would be hers too.

  The boys saluted and went down onto the tournament ground. They were allowed to ride horses into battle but had to dismount and fight on foot. There were points for who could capture the high ground in front of the stand and things like that. Men with white surcoats would tell them to leave the field if they were struck a blow that would have killed them if the sword hadn't been made of wood.

  They rode to the opposite ends of the ground. It was snowing so heavily they vanished from sight. Then a trumpet sounded and they charged back. Maud saw them thundering out of the gloom, swords raised and banners flying.

  Edward reached the marker flags and sprang from his horse. The other boys followed. One twisted his ankle and was ordered off the field. The others made a dash for the high ground. They got there before the opposing force and a flag was raised to show they had won the first round.

  Edward now had to hold onto what he had won. That wasn't easy. The boys on the other side were bigger. Soon he was struggling to keep his battalion together. Gaps appeared in his ranks and a big boy broke through and grabbed Edmund. He put a wooden dagger to his throat and dragged him down the slope.

  'Surrender!'

  He shouted for Edward to give in but Edward attacked. Maud watched as the dagger jabbed at Edmund's neck and one of the white-coated officials dashed in. She expected him to say that Edward had lost. Instead, he raised Edward's arm and declared him the winner. The snooty girl clapped excitedly and her brother glared at her angrily.

  The adults prepared to leave. They were complaining about the cold and talking about warm fires. The girls who had given Edward their favours were allowed to kiss him. The snooty girl kissed him fully on the lips and said how strong and brave he was. The other girls came from lesser families and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  Maud came last. He put his cold cheek against hers and whispered in her ear.

  'How do you think I did?'

  'You lost, Edward.'

  'Aye, Maud.' A tear appeared at the corner of his eye. 'If that had been a real battle, Edmund would be dead.'

  ***

  Edward lay in bed with three other boys. Normally, he slept alone or with Edmund. That wasn't possible. So many people had come for his birthday party. The castle was bursting at the seams. Every available space was being used. The servants had dossed down in the great hall and the guests were crammed into the bed chambers.

  That wasn't unusual. People often slept in cramped conditions but that didn't mean you had to like it. There were mattresses on the floor beside his bed and the commode was overflowing. He had tried to get the boys to go onto the battlements for a wee but with limited success. It was blowing a gale out there and few were prepared to brave the elements.

  People usually did what he said. He was the son of a duke. That made him an earl and gave him authority. He was the Earl of March. People called him March like they called his father York. Edward tried not to use his authority unless really necessary ... like when people pissed in corners and made the place stink.

  Tonight, his authority was diminished. He was an earl but so were four of the other boys in the room and they were older than him. York had the same problem. He was Lord Protector but that didn't mean much in the eyes of the nobility. They didn't even see him as first amongst equals, which was how they were meant to see the king. They were forever squabbling amongst themselves and their children were just the same.

  The families at his birthday party were part of the alliance against the House of Lancaster. That didn't mean they were beholden to the House of York. They were supporting his father because they had fallen out with the Lancastrians, not because they liked him.

  Edward thought about his father. They had never been close. Much of the time, they lived apart. His father was a serious man who had few real friends. The ordinary people liked him because he was honest. But he didn't mix well. He gave speeches and people applauded. Warwick was different. People loved him. He strode into crowds, picked up babies and slapped men on the back. When that happened his father hung back and people forgot he was there.

  Warwick was twenty-six and York was forty-three. Warwick was the son of the Earl of Salisbury but that wasn't why he was so rich and powerful. Warwick had married an heiress and that was how he become an earl. Edward wondered about marriage. His parents would expect him to marry someone chosen by them.

  The awful Salisbury girl was being coached to go after him. He knew that from the way she reported back to her mother every time she spoke to him. The thought of living with someone like her was mind-numbing. He wanted a wife like Maud. She was fun and she told the truth even when she knew he might not like it. That's what people did when they really liked you.

  Maud said that Edmund's throat would have been cut if it had been a real battle. That wasn't nice to hear but it was true. It made you realise what life was really about. It wasn't about playing games. Life was real until it ended. If you got it wrong in battle, it could end suddenly and in a very nasty way.

  From the way people were talking, fighting could break out again. He would soon be old enough to take part. Because he was an earl, they would put him in charge of a battalion. If he made a mistake people could die. One of them might even be Edmund. No silly girl would be able to say he was still alive after he had bled to death. This time he'd really be dead.

  Chapter 33

  Double Agent

  It was snowing at Windsor too but not as strongly as at Ludlow. Steven stood with his back to the fire and waited for RW to arrive. He had discovered the man's identity. He was none other than Matthew Cunningham, the queen's spymaster. At least, that's what people called him. Steven suspected that Cunningham had other names.

  Parliament had ordered Queen Margaret and her cronies out of Westminster and had sent them to Windsor with instructions to stop meddling in politics and care for the king. Steven had gone with the royal party at the queen's request. In his way of thinking, Margaret had promoted him from palace mascot to royal mascot. His ambition was to become a royal spy and that was why he wanted to see Cunningham.

  His mother was at Windsor too. They needed her there so she could do her Sister Alice act
with the king. She was the only person who could coax Henry out of his stupor, which pleased Margaret. And she didn't claim any credit for what she was doing, which pleased the royal doctors. They insisted that the improvement in the king's condition was due entirely to bloodletting and the other awful things they were doing to him. Mother had her own apartment, wore her Sister Alice outfit and was allowed to work in the hospital which the king had built in town.

  Father had remained at Westminster. That suited him because he saw himself as an administrator who didn't take sides. The government offices were at Westminster and Parliament met there. Parliament was dominated by the great families of England but their power was slipping away. The boroughs were on the rise and couldn't be ignored. That was because the wealth of England depended on the boroughs and their support was needed to raise taxes. What's more, the boroughs had militias. If it came to a fight, their troops could tip the balance.

  Steven figured that Queen Margaret expected his father to spy for her. That wasn't going to happen. Harald Gascoigne didn't spy on principle and could be amazingly stubborn. He had even refused to spy when sent on diplomatic missions in France. He said the French respected him for that and he was able to serve England all the better for it.

  Footsteps on the stairs told him that Cunningham was about to arrive. Steven studied footsteps. It was amazing how much you could learn from them. Footsteps were like voices. People sounded different from one another and they sounded different when they were tired or unwell. Right now, Cunningham sounded like a man in a hurry. The door flew open and his handsome face appeared.

  'Steven. They told me you were here.'

  'You got my message?'

  'You said York has moved his people into Westminster.'

  'That's what I'm told.'

  Steven leant back casually. Cunningham's staff showed inordinate respect towards their boss. He wasn't going to fall into that trap. Cunningham would have to court him to get his services. He was a prize worth having. His contacts went to the heart of York's operation.

  'Are your sources weliable?'

  Steven used to find Cunningham's failure to sort his Rs from his Ws amusing. The man would get it right in one sentence and wrong the next. Some people thought it was an affectation. They were probably right. If you led a double life, it would be advisable to wear a disguise and change your voice. He suspected that Cunningham led a double life and spoke normally when he was not being spymaster to the queen.

  'One of my sources is Sister Alice,' Steven replied with a grin. 'I've known her all my life and have come to trust her. She believes that lying is a sin.'

  'And do you share your mother's beliefs?'

  'Only the good ones.'

  A faint smile appeared on Cunningham's face. Steven guessed the man was warming to him.

  'How did your mother obtain this information?'

  'From someone in the hospital.'

  'Your father didn't tell her?'

  'My father never talks about his work.'

  'But the information was about personal acquaintances. Surely, he would have mentioned it to her. Your father has visited you here at Windsor.'

  'If you knew my father, you would know that he obeys rules. That is why Commander Gough employed him in France.'

  'Have you told your parents that you provided the information that led to the apprehension of York's spies.'

  'You mean the man with the greyhound?'

  'I mean Gaweth Pritchard.' Cunningham gave him a penetrating stare. 'The Welsh archer and his son, David.'

  Steven knew he must be on his guard. The slightest show of emotion could betray his true feelings. Gareth and David had died horribly and he was to blame. He allowed himself a flicker of a smile.

  'I played with David in France. My mother would never speak to me again if she knew what I had done.'

  'You mean your mother would not have informed us of an enemy of the king even when she knew he was endangering His Majesty's life?'

  'I'm saying my mother can't cope with situations like this.' Steven struggled for words. 'She truly loves the king and is working hard to restore him to health …'

  He battled on and Cunningham watched him intently, asking one question after another, trying to trip him up. Steven knew the routine and chose his answers carefully. Cunningham's face remained enigmatic. Eventually, he came to the question Steven had been waiting for.

  'Will you spy for the king?'

  'I believe I can be of assistance to Their Majesties.'

  'How?'

  'I know Sir Robin Perry. He is captain of York's personal guard. He's based at Ludlow with his family.'

  'Do you think Perry will supply information?'

  'I don't know.' Steven shrugged. 'The only way to find out is to contact him. But I don't want to do that unless you know what I'm doing and can train me to do it properly.'

  Cunningham stroked his beard thoughtfully and looked Steven up and down. When at last he spoke it was in short, sharp sentences.

  'You will report directly to me and only to me. I shall supply the training you need. Return here after dinner for your first lesson.'

  ***

  Robin glanced behind him. There was something tantalisingly familiar about the young man who had passed him on the stairs. He searched his mind. Memories flooded back. None quite matched. He felt sure he knew the young fellow but was unable to place him.

  He entered his office and thumbed through a pile of reports. Most concerned security. There was an appalling lack of it at Westminster and it was his job to sort out the mess. People came and went unchecked. The place was more like a fun park than the seat of government.

  York was Lord Protector and meant to run the country. Parliament had given him the task and supplied him with an administration staffed by supporters of the old regime. To make matters worse, their offices were in the Palace of Westminster.

  Over the years, the place had degenerated into an untidy complex of buildings, riddled with secret passages and open to almost anyone who wanted to wander in for a chat. Senior staff worked in cramped conditions and could spy on one another with ease.

  Westminster had infuriated Robin when he served with the English garrison in Normandy and it infuriated him now. The place was every bit as bad as he had imagined. He fumed in silence as he read the reports and wondered how many men would be needed to put things right.

  His mind kept returning to the young man. He felt certain he knew who he was but couldn't place him. Could he be the son of one of his colleagues? Had he come with York's party? Some of the officers had sons of that age. He ran his mind through a check list. Long fair hair, below average height, slim build, thin face … penetrating blue eyes.

  Something clicked. The eyes shone like diamonds. The young man had other distinguishing features but his eyes made him stand out in a crowd. Robin realised why he had not placed him sooner. He had failed to search back far enough into the past.

  If he had cast his mind back to Normandy there wouldn't have been a problem. The eyes had been just as bright then. The face had changed. It was older and more mature but still recognisable as belonging to Steven Gascoigne.

  He felt foolish. Steven was not the sort of person you would forget in a hurry. His bright eyes and innocent-looking face masked a penetrating mind. His playful nature and silly jokes gave the impression that he never took anything seriously.

  People had fallen into that trap. Some had tried to manipulate him. Others had tried to intimidate him. That was a bad mistake. Steven could be ruthless if he felt threatened. Three years ago, Robin had seen him in action during the Battle of London Bridge and knew that Steven had to be taken very seriously.

  His upbringing in the English garrison in Normandy must have contributed to his strange personality but there had to be more to it than that. Robin couldn't think of anyone remotely like him. The boys in the garrison usually followed their father's profession or became priests.

  Steven's father was a lawyer. H
arald wanted his son to go to university and study law. Instead, he had joined the royal court and gone out of his way to ingratiate himself with Queen Margaret. Robin had a dossier on the Gascoignes. He wished it contained an artist's likeness of Steven then he would have recognised him at once.

  York thought that Harald Gascoigne might be recruited as an agent. Attempts to approach him failed tragically when Gareth Pritchard and his son, David, were caught and brutally killed. Robin shuddered whenever he thought of it.

  He had known Gareth since he was a boy. Gareth's father had rescued Alice when she was being hunted as a witch. The three families were united in a shared past and shared loyalties. The enormity of it couldn't be forgotten. Nor could he ignore the possibility that Steven had betrayed David.

  Steven would have to be watched. He was probably in Westminster to visit his father. That might provide an opportunity to speak to him. At any rate, his movements would have to be followed and his contacts investigated.

  ***

  Steven squeezed a bedbug between his fingers and searched for others. It was a long time since he'd had to put up with the noxious pests. His mother was exceedingly fussy when it came to unwanted guests and had all sorts of ways of dealing with them. His father didn't seem to be troubled. They left him alone. His mother said that was because he had lived with them as a child at Wolf Wood and his body had learnt to produce toxic substances to repel them. Steven wondered how long it would be before he became equally repulsive to the nasty little creatures.

  He was sleeping on a cot beside his father's bed. They had been turfed out of their luxurious apartment to make way for the people the Duke of York had brought to Westminster. One of them was Robin Perry. He had written to him suggesting that they should go for an early morning ride around the park.

  Things were working out nicely. Robin was captain of the duke's guard but he wasn't merely responsible for a fighting unit. His duties went much further than that. Robin was one of York's senior intelligence officers. Cunningham had supplied that important piece of information.